Bound By Blood
by Sierra Duckland
Summary: Laura Rose was simply living her life like any teenager her age. Going to school, hanging out with her friends, saving up for college, you name it. She was simply living her life to the fullest, or at least attempting to. Given her circumstances, Laura wasn’t troubled by the fact that she was adopted, or so everyone thought...


Chapter 1 

**_Laura_**

No matter how hard I tried, or how many sheep I counted in my mind, I couldn't fall asleep. My life had been turned upside down lately and all of the strain and distress I've been experiencing for the last couple of weeks has been keeping me awake for hours on end. So I just ended up tossing and turning in my bed the entire night, as wide awake as ever.

_Why me? Out of every single individual that inhabits the planet, why does it have to be me? Why is it that only am I forced to contend with such melancholy and woeful things that aren't even my fault to begin with? What did I do to deserve any of this?_ Tears began to brim in my vibrant blue eyes, trickling down my thin, rosy pale cheeks.

Now what was it exactly that had got me so worked up at five in the morning? When I should've been sleeping away all of my troubles? The answer to that question lied within a particular event that had transpired over two years ago, a tragic incident that left me depressed and my mother devastated: my father's death.

Back in late June of 2013, it had been more than seven months since Dad had been dispatched to Southern Asia for his eight month deployment period, stationed at one of the BSAA's (bioterrorism security assessment alliance) bases operated by the anti-bioterror organization's Far Eastern branch. Like any soldier deployed in a rural part of the globe with no access to a decent WiFi connection, his only means of communication with us were by mail. Even though it would on average take from weeks to months at a time for him to receive our letters and to write back.

The moment his most recent letter came in the mail, unknowingly his very last letter to us, I had never been more happy in my whole life from reading the very first sentence in his letter:

_"Only three days left and then I get to come back home. It won't be much longer until we'll be together as a family."_

It wouldn't have been much longer until Dad was able to return back home to the states for his four month long furlough. At that time, I'd never more excited in my entire life. It had been quite some time since the three of us got to spend any quality time together as a family, especially on Independence Day out of all holidays. Mom and I missed him terribly, more concerned for his safety than for the season premiere of The Big Bang Theory. Yet again, who wouldn't miss their loved one who was halfway across the planet? Risking his own life to ensure the safety and security of every citizen inhabiting the Earth?

Like any military family, we feared for Dad's well-being on a 24/7 basis, a bit superstitious to the point where he might not even come back home at all. Our tensions already had been running high due to the occurrence of the Tall Oaks bioterror incident that transpired just days before Dad's anticipated arrival. Like everybody else that had perished in bioterror attack, my father's parents were also among those who died during the attack. To prevent the viral outbreak from spreading, the government had fired a thermobaric missile into the very heart of the city, sterilizing the area entirely and incinerating town to nothing more a massive rubble of charred rubble and debris. I held onto the hope that my father wouldn't have to suffer a similar fate, that he would come home to us when we needed him most.

Eventually, he did return home to us, only in an empty coffin. He had died in the line of duty during the bioterror outbreak in Lanshiang, China. His infected corpse wasn't recovered in one piece, and whatever they found of his remains were cremated to prevent the spread of viral infection.

It's been over two years since his grisly death, and Mom still hadn't been able to move on from that wretched event. If moving out of our old house and into this shabby apartment wasn't bad enough, Mom had unexpectedly became a drinker, and a heavy one at that. Out of every possible, healthy way to cope with the loss of her husband's life, she resorted to drinking her sorrows away.

_ A great idea, right?_ I let out a sarcastic chuckle, hugging my comforter close to my chest.

It all started a year and a half after Dad's death; Mom would come home after work, carrying six packs of Pabst Blue Ribbon in hand and go straight into her bedroom. Persistently reeking of alcohol, sweat, and a hint of vomit. Over time, it became a new daily habit for her. She would wake up, eat breakfast, drink a beer, go to work, come home from work, and gulp down a couple more beer bottles before hitting the hay each and every night. It turned into an addiction. A lethal disease. Not only did the alcohol in her system alter her physically, causing the bags under her eyes to continuously swell and premature wrinkling, it changed her mentally as well. It transformed her into a totally different person, into someone who'll never be the same ever again.

My mother was so horribly grieved by his death that whenever I tried to talk to her about it, she would just waltz straight into her bedroom and slam the bedroom door behind her, locking herself up in her room from hours to days at a time. Not even coming out to dine or maintain her hygiene; it's only gotten worse since it started.

Much to my dismay, it gotten to a point where I had to redirect all of my time and attention towards myself instead of Mom; I needed to take care of myself. No matter how terrible it sounded, I couldn't rely on my own mother anymore. I no longer could trust the one person I've depended on—for every single one of my basic needs—ever since I was just an infant.

My life wasn't always like his - all dark, grey, and gloomy. It used to be filled with joy, elation, and most importantly, it held true meaning and value to be alive. To be living happily and healthy. As I recalled the most untroubled moments of my childhood, I remembered that I was younger, around five or six years old, Dad had begun to instruct me on the essentials of fighting. Taught me how to block, duck, roll, kick, punch, and other simple maneuvers when it came to both fighting and defending myself in the midst of battle. Not only was it educational for me, it was also enjoyable as well; a good way to channel all of my stamina and strength into something that was worthwhile.

Since Dad had worked as a full-time member of the special operations unit (SOU) as a serviceman for the bioterrorism security assessment alliance (BSAA), he would instruct me what his trainers and superiors taught him (minus the guns and _certain explosives_), expect not in a military-like fashion on the account of me being only a little girl at the time.

Only a month into my training, I already had mastered the majority of the basics. I was now capable of holding my ground, however, I still had a long ways to go to fully get the hang of overpowering and taking down an opponent in battle. Impressed with my rather rapid yet thriving progress in the first few weeks of my training, he decided move on to the next unit in his lesson plan: hand-to-hand combat. One day while Dad was instructing me how to properly grasp someone in a choke hold, Mom had come home from work earlier than usual, walking in on me tightly gripping my father's neck using my scrawny arms.

Mom wasn't happy in the slightest that day, how she had found out that her husband was training me in the art of combat behind her back. My mother tremendously disapproved of it on the spot, saying that I was too _young_ and _immature_ to start training like a soldier, considering I was only a child at the time. She wasn't exactly fond of the idea of her little, pretty princess turning into a miniature drill sergeant. Despite Mom's argument in that case, Dad had a legitimate reason for doing so. It wasn't like him to do something for no damn reason.

His overall justification was that since the world wasn't as safe as it used to be decades ago, he wanted me to grow up as a strong, young, independent woman who was capable of looking after herself. In case anything unpleasant had came out of the blue for me, I would be able to face the problem head on without having to rely on others for help. It wasn't that Dad had major trust issues, all he ever wanted was the best for me. Always had, and always will.

The moment Dad was able to reassure Mom by sharing his explanation with her, she didn't have as much as a problem with my training than she did in the beginning. Only on one condition though: as long as I didn't use any of the diverse fighting techniques I've learned against any of my classmates at school. I agreed to Mom's restriction straight away, having no problem with following her rule. Only when she was around.

By the time I was around eleven-years-old, that was when Dad decided that it was high time to actually put my newly acquired skills to the test: a one on one match against one another. I was barely able to beat him during our very first match, he was more than two times my size, weighing one hundred fifty pounds of pure muscle and fat. And by chance that I was able to pin him down for more than five seconds, I had no doubt in my mind that day that he went easy on me. Even so, I was resolved on beating him in a fair match, and when I did weeks later after our very first match, I felt was more than proud of myself. I was gratified. I was fulfilled a kind of accomplishment that filled me with a sense of achievement, like when someone passes their drivers test or they've been accepted by the university of their dreams. Thank god being an energetic child had it perks.

_Man... I really do miss him so much._ A smile momentarily decorated my lips, only lasting for about a few seconds.

In all honesty, the truth was that I wasn't their biological child. I was adopted, believe it or not. About sixteen years ago, I was given up for adoption, soon after I was brought into this very world I call home. Not long after I was briefly placed in the foster care system, I was legally taken in by my soon-to-be parents, Marco Rose and his loving wife, Beatrice Rose. 'Cause of me being only a newborn at the time of my adoption, I had no recollection of any of the finalization of my adoptive parents gaining legal custody over me.

And then there was the never-ending nagging questions about the identities of my real mother and father; my biological parents. Who are they? More importantly, where are they? Do they live here in the states or in some rural part of Europe? Are they still alive? Or are they dead? If so, where are they buried? I knew that the answer to all of these questions was out there, somewhere. Someday, when I've graduated from high school and began living on my own, I planned on finding out for myself.

As I was laying comfortably on my warm, cozy bed, deep in thought, my vibrant blue eyes wandered towards the clock hanging up on the wall on the opposite end of the room, checking the time.

"It's six o'clock already? Well, I gotta get up anyways," I muttered quietly to myself, as I threw back the bed covers.

I idly got out of bed, dragging myself over towards my closet to pick out an outfit for school today. Once I've taken off my Supernatural pajamas and tossing them into my hamper, I changed into a pair of admiral skinny jeans, a raven colored tank top, a currant colored leather jacket, black leather boots, and a silver feather necklace around my neck.

I clutched ahold of the necklace charm with my fingertips, twirling the silver feathers in my hand. No matter what happened, I could never part with this piece of jewelry. It was the only thing I had that used to belong to my birth mother. I never really knew why she had left it in my possession. As a parting gift maybe? The real reason still remained unknown to this day.

Turning around, I grabbed my hair brush off the top of my vanity, detangling my long, blonde, silky hair before putting it all up into a simple ponytail. I tucked my bangs behind my ears; the short tendrils tickling the back of my neck. As soon as I was dressed with my hair up and out of the way, I left my bedroom, making my way downstairs.

The moment I stepped foot into the kitchen, I turned around, eyeing the multitude of empty beer bottles that littered the kitchen counters. The smell of alcohol filled my nostrils, overwhelming my senses. _What a mess. Had she became so intoxicated that she forgot how to clean up after herself?_ I let out an irked sigh, ambling into the kitchen and taking out a garbage and Clorox wipes from underneath the sink.

Once all of the mess had been cleaned up, I set the bottle filled garbage bag beside the doorway, before heading back into the kitchen to eat breakfast. The moment I was done munching on an apple and a granola bar, I tossed the leftovers into the trash can then strolled towards the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth and flossing them in the bathroom. Upon re-entering my bedroom, I snatched ahold of one of the straps of my backpack, swing it over my shoulder.

Right when I was about to leave my room to head for the bus stop that was located two blocks from the apartment complex, I stopped at the doorway - something catching my eye. I turned around, peering at the picture that was sitting on top of my desk.

I took slow, deliberate steps over toward my desk, picking up the framed picture off of my desktop. It was a photo of me and adoptive parents from a few years back, from our trip to Silverwood Theme Park. Back when my father was still alive, and my mother wasn't a depressed alcoholic.

That reality was long gone.

"I really miss you, Dad. It—" I paused for a second. As past memories of Dad came flooding back through my mind, I was on the verge of crying again. I took a long, deep breath and pushed those memories aside, holding back the tears and calming myself down. "Cela n'a pas été le même sans vous, _(It hasn't been the same without you)_," I mumbled to his photograph. I placed the picture back on the desk, and finally set out for the bus stop.

The sounds of birds chirping in the air, tires moving along the highway, cars honking, and the lively chatter of individuals as they walked along the busy streets of Seattle resonated throughout the whole city. It was just another day in paradise for more than half of the metropolis residents, as for the other half... not so much.

I leaned back into my seat on the school bus, with one earbud in and jamming out to Linkin Park in an attempt to ignore the animated chatter all around me that had spread all throughout the moving bus like the Black Plague. Nothing but non-stop gossip about the cutest couples at school, the homecoming dance, and the upcoming cross-town football game between the Roosevelt Riders and our school's top rival, the Ballard Beavers from Ballard high.

It had been around four weeks since the end of summer vacation and beginning of my second year in high school. Unlike the vast majority of my fellow classmates, I actually did enjoy going to a public, educational institution where I could practically learn a sundry of diverse subjects, sciences, even languages all for free. No down payments, no weekly taxes, it didn't cost a single penny out of my pocket. Not mention, indulging myself with my academic studies was a great way to temporarily forget about my everlasting troubles in my life outside of school, not for long though.

However, today was different. Not only because it was Friday, today was the opening day of the Roosevelt high's annual career fair. In other words, it meant that renowned organizations such as Terra Save, the BSAA, Genizen Incorporated, along with other distinct companies will have public relations officers present at the fair to represent their specific establishment.

In addition, there would also be doctors, nurses, engineers, authors, interior designers, therapists, and an array of other individuals standing in as spokespersons for their particular job field. So after attending the first four class periods, each and every student will be school sponsored for the remaining three class periods of the day to be able to attend the career fair. The central purpose of this was to mainly encourage students to explore a wide array of possible options to consider for their future career, in hopes of leading them down the so-called _right_ path.

Unlike the extensive portion of my sophomore class, I had a somewhat of a plan lined out for my future. Once I've graduated from high school, I intended on attending the University of Washington to study medical science. I haven't decided which specific branch I wanted to focus my studies on; all I knew was that it was a four way tie between epidemiology, biology, biochemistry, or nursing. As long as I maintained my straight A's in all of my current classes and throughout the next two years, the chances of getting accepted into my dream school would double, no, rather triple with my perfect grades. If all goes according to plan, my future will indeed be a prosperous one.

The sounds of the bus stopping in front of the high school pulled me from my thoughts. Mrs. Wilson, the bus driver, opened the doors with a shift of the lever, letting everyone out. With my backpack swung over my shoulder, I sat up from my seat, trekking towards the exit along the rest of my fellow students.

"Thanks, Mrs. Wilson," I expressed my gratitude towards the bus driver as stepped off the school.

"No problem, honey. Have a good day today." Her tone as sincere as her good hearted nature. Mrs. Wilson then closed the doors behind, shifting the gear from park back to drive before taking off down the road.

Bitter gusts of wind blew across the school campus, prompting goosebumps to protrude from the surface of my skin and my limbs to begin to shiver from the chilly, fall weather. Resolved to escape from the bleak outside temperature, I strolled along the cement pathway, heading towards the historical, brick building that represented Roosevelt high school.

_ Sure my morning didn't exactly start out on the bright side, nevertheless, I don't plan on letting it ruin my day. Not that easily. I just hope that I don't run into Catherine or her vicious minion, Shelby today._ Upon halting in front of the double doors, I grasped ahold of one of the door handles, opening the door and letting myself inside the building.

As soon as I entered the academic institution, my vibrant blue eyes wandered around the commons area, looking for my two best friends: Emile Grayson and Tyler Nivans. Treading around the area, I began to search for my friends, which ended rather quickly when a familiar voice called out.

"Laura! Over here!"

I turned around, redirecting my gaze over towards my friends. Emilie's figure was the entered my range of view, waving her hand in the air to get my attention. Standing beside the ravenette was my other pal, Tyler; a smile curled onto the young man's lips.

Being only five feet four inches tall, Emilie was the shortest person out of our little friend. What she lacked in height she made up with her sarcasm and sassy remarks. Her curly, ebony colored hair reached down to her shoulders, standing out from her mocha eyes and porcelain skin. Her attire consisted a black, long sleeve shirt, a grey plaid sweater, denim colored skinny jeans, and a pair of black flats.

Tyler, on the other hand, was around five inches taller than Em, making him five foot nine inches, therefore the tallest person out of our little posse. Despite of his intimidating stature and muscle-bound physique, Tyler was the most amiable and good-humored guy I that ever met. His rational actions as a friend spoke more than his actual words, considering how many times he had stood up for me.

His short, walnut colored hair was partially combed back, making his hazel eyes pop out more than the rest of his facial features. Unlike Emilie's unnatural pale skin tone, Tyler's was more beige, a dead giveaway of his Caucasian descent. His current attire was nothing more than a pebble colored t-shirt, overlapped by a basil colored plaid flannel, jeans, and a pair of brown converse.

Out of the three of us, Emilie was the most musically inclined, a band nerd by heart. Being one of the most talented flute players out of our entire school, the only curricular she actively participated in was the school orchestra, frequently practicing with her flute as well as performing in the majority of the concerts that are held at the academic institution. Emilie loved music more than anything else in the world, even more than chocolate.

As for Tyler, he was more of an athletically minded kind of guy, his brawns and muscly body build evidently conveying that. Instead of participating in football and basketball during the fall season like the majority of his fellow jocks here at Roosevelt high school, Tyler was more involved in wrestling and track and field than any other sports, from early winter to late spring during the school year. Thanks to all military training he and his older brother had received from his father, former Army lieutenant Charles Nivans, Tyler easily excelled in more than half of his competitions and tournaments, demonstrating his physical feats of strength and dexterity on both the wrestling mat and track field.

The moment I spotted them among the crowd, I began making my way towards them, greeting them as right I approached them.

"Hey Em! What's up, Tyler?"

"Where were you?!" The ravenette instantly questioned me, being her over dramatic self as usual. "We've been looking all over for you, Lari! You missed out on the informational meeting about the chess tournament coming up here in a few weeks."

_Shit... Forgot about that._ "I was just running a bit late, that's all." It wasn't a complete lie, I wouldn't have had to rush this morning if it weren't for the mess Mom had left behind in the kitchen. Both of them were more than aware about my mother's deteriorating mental state as well as her alcoholism, considering they're the only ones that I brought it up with. To keep them from worrying too much, I decided not to mention the clutter that I had to clean up this morning, intentionally changing the subject.

"Are you guys excited about the career fair? 'Cause I am." A smile decorated my lips.

"You got that right, for once I won't have to listen to Ms. Benson bicker about her relationship issues when she should be lecturing about Julius Caesar during fifth period," Emilie added, with a relieved tone of voice.

"Agreed. There's nothing like skipping class just to hang out with your best pals." Tyler suddenly wrapped his muscular arms around our shoulders, giving Em a noogie with his knuckles as his arm trapped me in a hug. Both of us chuckled at his little gesture; the moment becoming short-lived right as Catherine Bates and Shelby Wright abruptly approached us.

"And just when I thought you guys couldn't get any dorkier, here you three are, just standing around and making fools of yourselves. That's like so overrated," She spoke up, grabbing our attention then and there.

Tyler, Emilie, and I concurrently turned our heads around, three pairs of eyes landing on the school's top tyrant as well as drama queen. Her reign of terror over the entire sophomore class had earned her the nickname "Pussy Cat." Not only 'cause Cat was just pampered like one, she acted like one as well. My vibrant blue eyes widened right away, the corners of my mouth quirking down. _You got to be fucking kidding me... What the hell does she want this time?_

Catherine was about the same height as me, five foot seven, only because she was currently wearing a pair of honey colored stilettos, making herself eye level with me. Her long, frizzy, black hair hung loose upon her shoulders; her chestnut colored skin and stout frame glistening slightly under the fluorescent white light. Cat's dark brown eyes stared daggers in my direction, her eyes burning with such an intense resentment that only hatred could foster. Her present attire consisted of a lemon yellow colored blouse with a white tank top underneath of it, a pair of royal blue capris, and her stilettos.

In contrast to her best friend, Shelby was only five feet tall, much shorter than Catherine. The ginger's long, copper red hair was all put up into a simple bun; her hair and caucasian skin color apparent signs of her Scottish descent. She was sporting a scarlet red colored sundress that purposely showed off her curved hips and lean frame, and a pair of matching snazzy sandals. Her pearl blue eyes glued to me, gazing at me with such an intensity that practically matched Cat's. Almost as if laser beams were shooting out of their eyes and melting me to a crisp.

"What are you two doing here? More importantly, how many times have we told you to leave us the hell alone? Or are you two as deaf as a bat?" Tyler snapped, anger clearly evident in his tone.

"Well I'm sorry that I didn't hear you correctly, that's because it's not you I came all the way here to talk to." Catherine leered her head in my direction, shifting her gaze from Tyler directly to me. "I here to see Miss Dim-wit about my research paper."

I narrowed my eyes at her, letting out an irked groan. _Again, with the god damn paper. Why can't she just write it herself?_ "Sorry to disappoint you, Pussy Cat, but I don't write research papers for spoiled bitches with Mommy issues that believe that better than everyone else just because their Daddy owns one of the most piss-poor car companies on the western coast. So be a good girl for once and do it yourself, Pussy Cat." It was a well-known fact that Catherine's Mom left her and her Dad when she was only a baby, although, the real reason was still unknown, and that alone had spurred up more gossip than the time a large number of students got food poisoning from the chicken teriyaki the lunch ladies used to serve last year.

Catherine's eyes slightly widened, flickering with nothing but immense aversion. Her mouth partially twitched for a brief moment, then curled into an impish grin. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Laura." Cat shook her head. "May I remind you what could possibly happen if you chose not to comply, the consequences would be quite severe. I'm sure you remember that make-out session you had with Josh."

Catherine pulled out her smartphone, pulling up the video one of her friends had recorded for her. Pussy Cat held up her phone of us; the video showing her drunken boyfriend pinning my arms above my head against the wall, as he sloppily brushed his tainted lips against mine. My features were clouded with clear repugnance, considering that lips were still coated in a damp layer of alcohol and how he thought I was his girlfriend at the time. A second later, I rapidly brought up my knee and kneed the asshole in the nuts, prompting him to let go of me and collapse onto the floor. Josh groaned out in pain, his hands clutching his privates. Catherine paused the video, her dark brown eyes gazing in my direction.

"You might want to reconsider your decision, slut. If you choose not to, Cat will upload that video online of you having that make out session with her boy toy, in a locker room of all places," Shelby threatened, taking a step forward. "Can you imagine what would happen if the _entire_ school saw that? Or worse, possibly even the whole planet. The world will know how much of a hooker Laura Rose truly is, then everyone will start to call you "The Rose Hooker." It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" A malicious grin decorated the redhead's lips.

"I'm sure you don't want to throw away your chances of getting into any in-state college nor universities, right? Then you have until three o'clock sharp tomorrow afternoon to type out my laboratory paper in size eleven font, single spaced, describing the basics of evolution. So I would recommend you getting a good start on it right away." Catherine turned on her heel, her back facing us and her head peering in our direction. "Oh, and one more thing. If tweedle dee and tweedle dum say a single word about this to anyone, I won't hesitate to let Principal Anderson know about Tyler physically assaulting Josh for _no damn reason_." Cat walked away, with Shelby following behind her.

I clenched both of my fists, my nails digging into the palm of my hand and slightly penetrating the surface of my skin. _God, I loathe that bitch SO MUCH... If it were up to me, I'd strangle the very life out of her, slowly yet painfully. Seriously, she needs to pay for all the pain and misery she's caused for numerous people, especially me._ I lifted Tyler's arm off my shoulder, pulling myself out of his grasp as Emilie copied my gesture.

"Don't listen to her, Lari. She's only trying to use you to her advantage." The ravenette stated aloud.

"I'm well aware of that, Em. But if I don't oblige, Cat won't hesitate to upload that video."

"Laura," Tyler stepped forward, his bruised hands making a fist. "We both know that it wasn't your fault. Josh was clearly drunk last Friday."

"More like tipsy," Emilie added, her tone laced with revulsion.

Tyler momentarily met Em's heartfelt gaze, before directing his attention back to me. "Despite that, he should've gotten more than just a good battering from me. It's more than evident that Josh was heavily under the influence of alcohol when he found you. None of this is even acceptable to begin with. We should be informing a teacher about this, not standing around and doing nothing—"

"No Tyler, we can't," I abruptly cut him off, "You two know as well as I did what Cat and Shelby are fully capable of. As much I wish for the same thing as you do, I also don't want them to shame me in front of the entire school. I'm already an outcast as it is," I told them, thinking about the possible consequences if I didn't play my cards right. "Listen guys, I should get going. First period is gonna start soon and I don't want to be late." I took a step back from them. "See you later, Tyler. Emile, see you later in Chemistry." I turned around, my hand gripping the backpack strap around my shoulder as I trod towards my first period class: French 2.

As I wandered down the extended hallway, I steadily began to space out from the realm of reality, resulting me to suddenly bump into someone along the way. The collision of our shoulders caused the gentleman to drop the stack of papers he was carrying with him, the countless flyers spilling all over tiled floor beneath us.

"Shit— I'm sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going. Here, let me help you sir." I kneeled down on the ground, avoiding eye contact with the young man as I was picking up as many flyers as I could.

The elder male got down on his knees as well, gathering up the papers that had fallen out of his hands. "It's fine, let me— Wait a minute? Is that you, Laura?"

_That voice... Why does it sound so familiar?_ It wasn't until he had spoken up that I looked up at him, immediately recognizing who it really was. It was my childhood friend, Piers. Tyler's older brother.

"Piers!" I dropped all of the papers I was holding onto before launching himself in his direction, engulfing the sniper into a long-awaited hug.

After what seemed like an eternity, I pulled away from him, meeting his radiant gaze. "What are you doing here? I thought that you were currently stationed up north near the Canadian border?" I inquired using a delighted tone of voice.

As long as I could get remember, the Nivans has always been life-long family friends with my parents, the Roses. As a result of their everlasting friendship, Piers and I became close companions with each other, even though I've looked up to him more as an older brother than as my best friend. Being the big-hearted, vigilant, and considerate kind of guy he was, Piers was always been a bit overprotective of me, especially whenever any boy would try to flirt with me.

"Since some of the higher ups needed some volunteers to come your school career fair and act as representatives for the BSAA, my platoon and I decided to take up the job, the main reason for me was that I wanted to see how you, Tyler, and my parents were doing. My sudden visit was supposed to be a surprise, since my furlough wouldn't be for another month. So... surprise!" Piers lifted his hands, acting out his best jazz hands impression.

I giggled, momentarily covering my mouth with the back of my hand. "Real cute, Piers."

"Not as cute as your all-time crush, _Dean Winchester_," Piers remarked with a playful tone of voice, as he continued to pick up the flyers off the floor.

I immediately punched his right shoulder with my free hand, all while gathering up the remainder of the BSAA flyers with my other hand. "Shush it, Nivans! Before I go all soulless Sam on you!" I hissed at him, using a frisky tone of voice.

The two of us simultaneously standing up off the ground. "Shouldn't you be in class, Laura—?" The sound of the bell ringing aloud cut him off.

"Here in the next five minutes," I replied, a smile once again curling onto my lips. I handed Piers the rest of the flyer in my possession. "See you later, Lieutenant Nivans."

"See ya later, Briar Rose." Piers and I went our separate ways, ambling down the opposition direction of one another.

I let out an amused chuckle, not surprised that the lieutenant still referred to me by my childhood nickname. _I guess that some things don't change..._


End file.
